


and in the dark (I can't hear your heartbeat)

by WonderTwinC



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:23:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderTwinC/pseuds/WonderTwinC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her hands clenches, unbidden and he giggles, low and dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and in the dark (I can't hear your heartbeat)

**Author's Note:**

> I was prompted 'in the dark'.

The ring burns her finger, right down to the bone, but she doesn’t dare to take it off. He’s watching her from across the dais with his hand rested against the spinning wheel, fingers drumming a quiet, uneven tune. She knows him to be wicked but he seems more so with the light of the flames ghosting across his shadowed features, hiding all but one side of his face, skin glimmering to match the burning embers. Her hands clenches, unbidden and he giggles, low and dark. She can barely see the way his lips twist and twitch, grotesque teeth bared, “Does something displease you, dearie?”

 

“No,” in the dark she calls him nothing, not master nor sir, and certainly not by the name he has refused her to use. Something in her tone pleases him, perhaps the desperate edge, hardened a thousand times over that she knows he loves. He raises his other hand, waggling his fingers at her and turning his head until he is completely sheltered in the shadows, no amount of light able to reach him.

 

“Off you go then, _Margie_ ,” he stresses the name, hissing it with delight and disdain, another giggle of dark desires echoing in the hall. His wheel does not creak when he spins but no longer is she worth his attention, not even for a second. She knows her dismal and she leaves, feeling bare now that he’s not interested in looking at her anymore.

 

The thin robe she wears around her chemise is not enough to ward off the chill, from his words or the castle itself. The trip to her room is a long way, each step a reminder of what she has given to be here, what she has sacrificed to stay. She knows she’d forget her own name, in time, if not for the six letters delicately etched into her palm, a reminder created by her own fingers.

 

Names are power and Regina never intends to forget.  


End file.
